To Trust Oneself
by Red Tigress
Summary: The team must capture a drug lord and then travel with him through the wilds of Columbia. Some...issues...are bound to come up on the way. Team, but Brandt-centric. Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Some of you might know this story as "Hot Tamales". This is something way longer than I usually do, and it's still in progress, so it'll be coming out in chapters. Luckily, thanks to the Branch, I already got some done, so these updates shouldn't be too far apart. The story, as a whole, is full of Brangst, but there will be some whump later on, you just gotta be a little patient for it. ;) The Russian in this I plugged into the translator, so...it's probably wrong. Sorry about that._

"I still don't understand why we're doing this. Isn't this like, a job for the Green Berets or something?" Brandt was sitting in the back of a stiflingly hot jeep, wearing a long sleeve camouflage jacket, and long, camouflage pants. He had a dark green tact. vest over top of it, and his pores were clogged with face paint. A P90 was resting on his knee, pointing straight up towards the roofless jeep's spreader bars. Benji, sitting in the backseat next to him, was similarly dressed. For once, he didn't have a laptop open, but only looked resigned to his fate. He was starting to sweat under his hairline, making the paint run a little.

The jeep rumbled along a dirt road in Colombia, birds taking flight as Ethan swerved around curves at about 75 mph. Brandt found himself popping up and dropping in the air far too much for his liking. Ethan was bad enough on pavement, but he wasn't sure what they had all been thinking when they agreed to let him drive in the South American jungles.

"I told you," Ethan breathed an exasperated sigh from the driver's seat. "IMF thinks the military is too bureaucratic. Since they don't know where the leak is, they're not trusting them." Ethan was dressed in a white suit, a light blue shirt partially opened underneath it. His hair whipped around him in the draft from the car.

"You're better at this than me, though," Brandt whined, shifting the P90 to the other leg.

Brandt couldn't see the eye roll under his sunglasses, but he certainly heard it in his tone. "Brandt, I'm also better at Spanish than you. So unless you start brushing up on your languages, you're going to be doing a lot of the physical stuff."

"Это – наверняка," agreed Benji. Brandt shot him a glare, but as of that moment resigned himself to actually pull his weight in the language department.

Jane turned to look at them, smirking. She was dressed in an airy blue top, with white jeans to match Ethan's outfit. Brandt was secretly relieved to see her sweating. It was good to know she couldn't always look perfect. He gave her a sarcastic smile back.

About half a mile from their destination, Ethan (blessedly) slowed down the car. "Alright," he said. "Codenames from here on out."

Brandt and Benji hopped out the back, and then each reached in the trunk to pull out their respective duffels, filled with extra guns, ammo, camping supplies and computers. Brandt focused his gaze on Ethan.

"Drive _slowly,"_ he emphasized. "We can't get in position with 40-pound packs on our backs faster than you drive."

"Of course," Ethan said seriously. Brandt couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Benji reached up to his ear.

"Comm check?"

"We're good," Jane said.

Brandt reached into one of the pockets in his vest, pulling out a GPS locator. He switched it on, and stared at it for a minute while it started up. Once he was sure it was working, he shouldered his duffle, and strapped the P90 to his chest so it wouldn't move around. "Alright, we're good. See you in 50."

Ethan gave a wave, and began to pull the car away. Brandt looked at Benji, and they sighed at one another. "I feel like a Sherpa," Benji mumbled. Brandt shrugged, than jogged into the trees, Benji following behind him.

"I can't believe IMF doesn't have some sort of ex-SEAL who could do this for us," huffed Brandt, as they traipsed through the stifling jungle. Foliage brushed against his face, and he could feel literal rivers of sweat pour down the crevices in his back where his clothes were sticking uncomfortably to him.

"They did…I think," panted Benji behind him. "But he's retired…or something."

"Nobody _retires_ from IMF," breathed Brandt.

"You did," Benji said back.

"I was…working for the Secretary. I'd hardly call that…retirement."

"Well…it was a retirement from…guns," Benji argued.

Brandt grunted. He wasn't really in the mood to have this conversation again, especially since he was focusing most of his energy on trying not to sweat to death. Unbidden, the nagging feeling of guilt began to surface again, but he suppressed it. Now was not the time. He knew Benji hadn't steered the conversation purposely towards the reason for Brandt's "retirement", and no one on his team held it against him. He knew that. But he couldn't help feeling like they tiptoed around the subject anyway.

Benji, noticing his friend's sudden silence, and the realization dawned on him that perhaps they weren't discussing the best subject.

"Oh…I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Stop it…water under the bridge…I don't want you guys…watching what you say around me…" Brandt huffed. "Just trying…not to sweat to death," he finished.

Benji gave a relieved exhale, and nodded though Brandt couldn't see him. "Fair enough." They walked in silence for a few more minutes, before a lone telephone pole came into view in the middle of the jungle. Wires and cables stretched to unseen points to the left and right of it. They approached it, dropping their packs for a few minutes and sucking in deep breaths of the disgustingly humid air. Benji rifled through his pack for his laptop and wire arrays, while Brandt reached in his and pulled out two bottles of water.

He took a few swigs of his and tossed the second one to Benji, who didn't know it was coming, and it bounced off his shoulder. "Ow! Hey! Busy!"

Brandt sniggered. "Sorry." Benji reached down, picking up the water bottle and drinking from it as he booted up his laptop. "You going to be able to get up there?" He pointed to the wires above their heads.

In answer, Benji pulled out a harness and some cables from his pack. "Yeah. Gimme 15 though," he said. Brandt nodded, turning his comm off mute and shouldering his pack. He gave Benji a small wave, and continued to move off North through the jungle.

"This is Gryphon. I'll be in position in ten minutes. Pegasus will be ready in 15."

"Roger. We're 10 minutes out," Ethan's voice came over the comm.

The trees and undergrowth around Brandt began to thin out, and he could see through the trees a huge, white mansion. The glass gleamed in the bright sunlight, and he paused, taking another small device out of his tact. vest. Switching it on, it started emitting slow, sporadic beeps. He moved cautiously forward, and the beeps began to get closer together. Panning it around, he waited until the beeps became one continuous tone, before searching the ground directly in front of him. His eye caught the glint off something black and manmade, standing out from the course brown dirt around it. He reached down, gingerly peeling the dirt back from around it before he spotted wires. He pulled out a small clamp from his vest which had a microchip designed to continuously record and feed back to the motion sensor the visual from the moment the clamp was placed on it.

"One motion sensor on the Southside disabled," he reported.

He moved closer to the building, rolling his feet so as not to be heard.

_Let the fun begin._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, faves, and alerts! I really appreciate it! You guys had me gushing. :3 This would have been uploaded sooner, if not for the delays on the site today, haha. Enjoy!_

Ethan pulled the jeep up in the driveway of the mansion. A small crowd was gathered already, no more than about 20 people, not including the armed guards standing in the driveway. At a glance, Ethan could see at least one on the roof.

"At least one guard on the North roof," he said quietly as he turned his back on the guards to walk to the passenger side to help Jane out. She smiled, taking his hand. Together, they walked back around the jeep as one of the lackeys took it and drove it to some unseen location. A bodyguard stepped in front of them. All the guards had unconcealed weapons, and were not shy about it.

"_Invitations?"_ Ethan pulled out his phone that had a barcode ready on it as Jane dangled off one arm like a prize. The guard took the phone and scanned it with his own. It seemed to check out, so he nodded to the others. They came over and began patting down Ethan and Jane. Ethan just smiled, as Jane ran her tongue over her teeth suggestively to one when he got to her chest. The guards finished their search and waved them through.

"Cretins," mumbled Jane, but still kept up her antics for the benefit of their cover. They were approached by a thin, middle aged man in a light blue suit. He had dark hair and his face was covered by a light amount of stubble. He didn't seem to be bothered by the heat too much as he looked immaculate. Spreading his arms wide he approached them.

"_My friends,"_ he said in Spanish.

Ethan shook his hand. _"Se__ñ__or Cur__ó__n,"_ he greeted. Jane gave him a sultry look. _"I'm Ricki Estobar. This is my…associate, Clara."_ Jane offered her hand, and he lifted it to his lips.

"_Mucho gusto," _he smiled at her, before turning back to Ethan.

"_It is nice to finally meet you, Ricki. I've heard so much about you from Prell."_ Ethan nodded. Prell was an associate of IMF who had been feeding lies to Curón for months about his "new pal Ricki". "Ricki", like Curón, was in the heroine business, but unlike Ricki, Curón had his own new pal. A CIA agent who was selling him dangerous secrets.

"_It's a shame Prell couldn't come,"_ Ethan replied.

"_The man's too busy looking over his shoulder. Come, I'll show you around_."

Brandt waited until the guard in the den who was facing the backyard turned around. He broke cover, moving quickly to the house and pressed his back up against the wall of the lowest story.

"Pegasus, you got eyes yet?" Sweat, from both the humidity and the threat of discovery continued to run down his face and back. He didn't much like the military-style infiltration. Ironically, it made him feel like he was pretending to be someone he wasn't. They were all built and trained for covert affairs, not these smash and grab jobs.

"Give me two minutes, Gryphon," Benji's voice floated over the comm. Brandt took two small metal picks out of a pocket on his vest. He jammed one into the wall above him, and then remained still for a minute. It seemed with the noise of the party, he hadn't been detected.

"I'm online," Benji said. "Gryphon, there's a camera that can pick you if you move 10 feet to your right…so don't do that."

"Gee, thanks," Brandt hissed over the comm. "I need you to tell me if the guy on the roof gets close."

"Oh, uh…there's not a camera up there."

"I thought you said there would be," Brandt whispered again.

"Well…there's just not," came the reply. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Brandt jammed the second pick into the wall a little higher than the first, finding footholds around a first story window. Still no noise overhead.

"Guard's still North," Ethan's hurried voice said quietly.

"Appreciate it, Dragon." He began climbing with the picks again, not as afraid of being overheard. He stopped when he heard the low chuckle of Curón over the link. "Sphinx?"

"Sphinx is fine, moving towards the bedroom with target," Ethan said quietly.

"Got eyes in the bedroom," Benji confirmed. Brandt would normally question the reasons as to why one had a security camera in his own bedroom, but in this case he was glad he did. He jammed his left pick into the wall one more time and finally had gained enough height to peek over the sill into the bedroom. He ducked almost immediately, as he saw Curón pushing Jane through the doorway, his mouth greedily kissing hers.

"I'm outside the window," Brandt whispered, moving to peek in again. In response to his words, Jane turned Curón so that his back was to the window. Brandt pulled himself up a little more, and saw her sit down on the bed. Curón moved closer, and she put a teasing finger on his lips. Brandt's eyes widened in surprise when Curón slapped her in response.

"Fuckin' masochist," Brandt mumbled, anger clearly penetrating his words.

Ethan must have picked up on the tone, because a second later he heard the somewhat hesitant reply, "…she can take care of herself." Brandt watched as Curón moved closer, gripping her neck.

"Sphinx," he said warningly. She showed him the palm of her hand behind Curón's back. _Wait._ Brandt felt terrible that he wasn't trusting her to deal with this situation herself. But at the same time, he couldn't just sit here and watch someone do this to a _friend._

"She'll call for help if she needs it," Ethan said with more assurance in his voice this time. "I'm almost done with the patio charges." Brandt growled, but held his ground. "Wait for her signal, Gryphon," Ethan commanded. For once, Ethan was being the calm, rational one while Brandt was itching to pull the trigger. But then again, Ethan wasn't seeing what he was. Curón was pushing her onto her back now, climbing up onto the bed with her.

Brandt cringed. "You almost ready Dragon?"

"30 seconds."

That was all Jane needed. She wrapped her legs around Curón's neck and twisted to the side, throwing him down on the mattress. Brandt's relief was short lived as the stunned man wasn't stunned enough not to slowly draw a knife out of his pocket. She wouldn't be able to block it.

"Cover us," he said, before lifting up his P90 and aiming it towards the top of the window pane.

The impromptu shower of glass he received probably wasn't the best idea in retrospect, but it had the desired effect of making Curón pause. Luckily, the son of a bitch paid top dollar for his windows, so Brandt was only showered with small pieces of glass, and not shards the size of swords. He shut his eyes and winced as he felt small cuts on his cheeks. At about the same moment, he heard and felt an explosion somewhere off to his right, and people began screaming.

Curón moved to try and slash Jane again, but she was more ready for it this time and twisted away, still keeping her legs locked around Curón. She gave a small hiss of pain, and a thin red streak appeared on her hip before she could reach his wrist and twist savagely. Brandt pulled himself up through the window, moving the other man and hitting him over the head savagely. He fell on the mattress dazed, but breathing hard.

Brandt gave Jane a glance. "You alright?" he asked her. Her cheek was red where Curón had slapped her and her neck was beginning to bruise slightly, but luckily the cut on her hip seemed very shallow and wasn't bleeding too much. She panted a bit, but nodded at him. He pulled Curón off the bed, ignoring the somewhat offended look in her eyes. He gave the man a kick to the stomach, and he groaned, curling in on himself. He shrugged off his pack and then reached in, first pulling out zip ties, and then a vest, pants and boots for Jane. He tossed them on the bed.

They heard gunfire and yelling from a little ways away, and he could only guess Ethan's distraction was working. He pulled Curón's hands behind his back and secured them, as Jane took off her airy top, unfolding her polypropaline t-shirt in a hurry. Even though Curón was breathing heavily on the floor, he still managed to leer at Jane in her bra before Brandt gave him a swift kick to the knee.

She pulled the shirt over her head before taking off her jeans. Brandt turned around so he had his back to her, and he stood between Curón's view and her legs. "You didn't have to do that," she said quietly. He brushed the stray glass out of his hair onto Curón, who moaned in displeasure.

"I know. I wanted to." He heard her unzip the vest and he turned back around to see her shrug it on. He was somewhat surprised to see her giving him a disapproving look.

"No, I mean…_don't_…do that for me," she said quietly, pulling on her boots. "I had it."

"I know you did."

"Do you?" They locked gazes as he unstrapped a holster with a pistol from around his thigh and gave it to her. She took it without a word. Another explosion sounded in the distance.

"Guys," Benji's voice crackled over the comm. "Ethan's doing pretty well for himself, but he's running out of cars to blow up. We only packed so many exploding sunglasses."

"Right," Brandt acknowledged. He and Jane pulled the prone drug lord to his feet. "We're going on a trip," Brandt hissed in his ear. The three of them moved out of the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for the reviews everyone. This chapter is where the angst is beginning to make itself known. Also known as "In which everyone goes camping!" I hope you enjoy it. And if you think it's boring, well...I'm sorry, but I'm trying out like, setup! And exposition! And the next chapter will have action in it, I PROMISE. Thanks for reading!_

The scene outside was chaos. Brandt caught the visage of a few cars with guests escaping down the dirt road. As they moved through the hallways, there were no signs of guards, but Jane was alert as she took point. Brandt shoved Curón along ahead in front of him. The hallway opened up onto the patio, but half of it had crumbled away and was still smoking. The bodies of two guards were on the deck. Brandt spared them a glance, before he heard gunshots off to his left.

"Pegasus, what's happening?"

"Dragon's pinned down; he's trapped in the garage. It's about 30 meters west of you."

"We're on it," Jane said. She hurried in the direction of the garage which was a separate building from the mansion. Brandt followed a bit slower, still pushing along a silent Curón. They ran past a pool, down some stairs and onto the lawn in front of the house. The guards were behind a few parked cars, the engine of one on fire. They were shooting into the garage, the roof of which was seemingly on fire as well. That had probably been the team's own jeep, which had had C4 in it. Brandt wasn't entirely sure how Ethan had managed to set most of the cars that hadn't been grabbed by fleeing guests on fire in a few short minutes, other than the man was very adept with exploding accessories.

Brandt pushed Curón to the ground behind a short garden wall, getting behind it himself as he opened fire. Jane was doing likewise, and they took out three of the six, before the remaining ones moved to the sides of the cars, still debating which fate was worse; killed by two people with automatic weapons, or the crazy guy who kept setting things on fire. They must have decided Ethan was worse, because bullets started whizzing by Brandt's head and he ducked in a hurry. Curón only watched him, remaining silent.

Suddenly, one of them yelled _"Grenada!"_ and the bullets stopped. A second later, the car that wasn't already on fire exploded, sending shrapnel in every direction. Brandt hit the ground again, and saw Jane do the same across the path.

"Where the _shit_ did he get a grenade?" Brandt asked. Jane just gave him a dumbfounded look as if to say she didn't know either. The bullets had stopped, and Brandt tentatively poked his head above the wall. The one man who hadn't been killed in the explosion was rolling slowly on the ground and moaning. He stood up, pulling Curón up by his suit as well. He offered little resistance. Ethan was crossing the lawn from the garage in long, angry strides. He looked irritated, to say the least. He stopped in front of Brandt and Curón, giving the drug lord the once over before turning his attention on Brandt.

The angry glare he was receiving almost made him flinch. "We got lucky I was in place before you jumped the gun. She can handle herself." Brandt was a little taken aback that for the second time in ten minutes he had been reprimanded for trying to help a teammate. Brandt furrowed his brow in frustration, but didn't reply. It didn't matter now, what happened, happened. He had probably jumped the gun a little bit, but it wasn't so much of a screw-up it hindered the mission. Jane gave him one sidelong look that he couldn't read before turning her gaze on Ethan.

"Are there any cars you didn't blow up?"

"No. Pegasus, stay where you are. We're coming to you."

"Are we…" Brandt started.

"Walking? Yes. There's a village about two days travel north of here, and there we can secure transportation and travel the rest of the way to the border."

"T-two days?" Benji stuttered over the comm.

"Yes. We have the supplies, and we need to move before reinforcements are called to look for Curón." Ethan cast a look at Curón who was still silent, but in a much calmer mood. To Brandt, he seemed resigned to his fate, which was sort of unusual for a drug lord being taken hostage by spies. "We'll see you shortly, Pegasus, pack it up and be ready to leave."

Brandt stood still as Ethan moved around behind him to dig in his pack for his own boots and gun. He ditched his loafers there, as well as the suit jacket he was wearing. "You got point, Gryphon." Brandt happily left keeping the drug lord at gunpoint to his teammates, and led a trail back towards Benji.

When they reached the tech, he had packed all his things and also rolled up his pant legs and sleeves. "Took you long enough!" he grumbled, standing up and wiping sweat off his face, making his paint smear.

"It took us 10 minutes," Brandt grumbled.

"So that's him then," Benji said, nodding to Curón and shouldering his pack.

Brandt took out his GPS again to keep them heading north. "No, it's our new cabana boy," Brandt growled.

Benji fell in line behind Brandt. Ethan brought up the rear with Curón and Jane in between him and Benji. "Doesn't talk much, does he?" Benji observed.

"What's there to say?" Curón said in English. "You got me. I do not want to be shot by American spies today."

"Don't talk to him," Ethan said.

"Ah, but surely…Dragon? You cannot stop _me_ from talking to _you._" Brandt looked over his shoulder to see Curón smiling slightly.

"We could duct tape you," he said.

"Ah, but surely you know in this humidity it will just peel right off my face, no? Besides, at any moment I could let slip the name of my American contact. Surely that's why you have captured me alive. I doubt such…interesting people are trying to curb the drug trade."

Their silence was all the confirmation Curón needed. "I thought so."

"It doesn't matter what you thought," Brandt growled.

"You are awfully snappish Mister…Gryphon." Ethan tapped Curón's back with the muzzle of his gun briefly.

"That's enough. We have a lot of walking to do."

Dusk was beginning to settle in the jungle when Ethan called the group to a halt. No one had spoken much, other than Curón's odd comments now and again about how he loved the wilds of Columbia. The mosquitos were beginning to come out, and air was filled with the sounds of Benji slapping his skin before Brandt snapped at him to roll his pants down. Benji then seemed to remember he had bugspray in his pack, and they passed it around, not bothering to give any to Curón. He didn't seem bothered by the bugs, though.

His unflappability was really beginning to perturb Brandt.

Curón sat in the dirt watching the team as they set up camp. They had two tents, which were each packed into something about the size of a brick. Benji pulled a cord on both of them, and with a hissing sound the tent poles shot up, unfurling the fabric they were attached to like sails. The tents, fully expanded, weren't much bigger than a desk. Jane began pulling MREs out of one of the packs while Brandt set to work building a fire. Benji and Ethan began setting up a tarp nearby. Curón would be sleeping under that. When they were finished, Ethan pulled out five sleeping bags that had been stuffed into sacks about the size of grapefruits.

"Alright," Ethan said addressing him. "We'll all take turns watching Curón. Sphinx and Pegasus, you will be sharing a tent so you will take first and second watch. Gryphon and I will be sharing a tent and take third and fourth watch. Alright?" They all nodded, except Benji who was busy ripping an MRE open.

Ethan took an extra MRE and unwrapped it, placing it in front of Curón. He looked at it, before looking back at Ethan. "How am I supposed to eat this?" he said pleasantly before shrugging his shoulders. His hands were still bound with the zip tie behind him.

"With your mouth," Ethan replied sarcastically.

"I am not doing that." He looked thoughtful. "I want _her_ to feed it to me." Jane looked up at them, as she chewed her own MRE. She regarded them pensively, but didn't look alarmed or disgusted in any way. Brandt however, shot an ugly glare towards Curón on her behalf. She looked at Ethan, to see if he needed her to do it.

"No." Ethan's tone left no room for argument. "If you'd like, I can get a power bar and just stuff it in your mouth instead."

Curón just shrugged. "So be it. I think we are beyond dignity at this point, no?" He smiled before leaning down to eat the meal. Brandt watched silently for a minute before turning back to his own food.

Brandt was awoken by Benji's headlamp and a harsh poke to his side. "Jesus, B-" he groaned. He had almost forgotten in his sleep-muddled state they were using codenames in front of the asset. He sat up, and pulled his legs out of his sleeping bag while rubbing his eyes, trying not to jostle Ethan too much. Ethan only stirred slightly. Brandt took his headlamp from where he had stuffed it in the corner of the tent. Turning it on, he jammed his eyes shut against the light. He crawled on his knees out of the tent before zipping the door up behind him. The air was cool now, so he grabbed a fleece from their clothing pile under the tarp where Curón was sleeping. Benji handed him the gun after he put it on.

"G'night." He whispered. Brandt just gave him a small, tired wave. He then looked over at the mass that was Curón in his sleeping bag.

"Please do not shine that light in my face," he said quietly. Brandt dimmed the light. Much as he would like to shine it in his face all night, he knew that an asset with no sleep at all would be difficult to drag through the jungle. Curón rolled over, then seemed to recognize Brandt's visage.

"Ah, Agent Gryphon. How nice of you to join me."

"I had no choice," Brandt grumbled.

"Yes, well, I cannot fault you for that." Curón chuckled quietly to himself. "I was disappointed when your female agent left me tonight. She has made the best company out of all of you yet." Brandt grit his teeth together and tried to occupy himself by looking for bats. "Hmm…does it…_bother_ you when I talk of her in this fashion?" he asked. Brandt ignored him. "Are you…lovers?" Curón waited a minute, but Brandt gave no reply. "Perhaps not. To be lovers in your line of work…it involves a great deal of trust."

"Stop talking," Brandt ordered.

Curón ignored him. "From what I saw today, you don't seem to trust your teammates to do their jobs. Or perhaps, they do not trust you to do yours."

"What would you know about trust, huh?" Brandt hissed under his breath. "You're just a scumbag drug dealer that doesn't care who dies so you can make your money."

"I trusted my guards to protect me. They did not do their jobs, and they paid the price for it. But one can only give so much trust to a man he hires. Your line of work is completely different. You must give and receive trust completely in order to survive. It would seem that today, you did not have that trust."

Brandt was very quickly becoming uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, and how much Curón had observed just from overhearing a few short conversations. Brandt knew his team trusted him. But…

…he remembered the accusatory and offended look Jane had given him when he broke the window early. She _was _more than capable of handling herself. Deep down, did he not trust her? Could she still trust him after today?

Ethan had only said about six words to him in the tent as well before they both fell asleep. Maybe Ethan didn't trust him now. Even after a few months and a few missions under his belt, nobody was making uncalculated, emotional slip ups like this.

Except him.

"Agent Gryphon?" Curón's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Shutup and sleep," he mumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I am trying to be a better review responder, because I really do appreciate them. Again, big thanks to TBB, you guys keep me interested in writing. In any case, here's the chapter where the shit hits the fan!_

The next morning, Brandt was woken up by Ethan grabbing his ankle and shaking him awake. "Time to get moving," he said, before ducking back out of the tent. He then immediately put his head back in the door flap. "Did Curón…say…anything to you last night?"

Brandt inhaled deeply through his nose in an effort to wake up after the fitful sleep he had only enjoyed for two hours. Brandt regarded Ethan for a second.

"…no," he lied.

Ethan raised an eyebrow minutely before turning away in a ruffle of nylon.

_Shit,_ Brandt thought. _He knows._ He pulled himself out of his sleeping bag and then pushed it into the stuff sack.

As the team packed up camp and wolfed down some MREs, Brandt would glance towards Curón who seemed to be ignorant of the attention. Brandt knew, _knew_, that the drug runner had been trying to get under his skin. It must have been the lack of sleep that made him question himself so much. He hated that. The man had been able to easily pinpoint his own, private insecurities and take advantage of him. Not Jane's, not Benji's, and certainly not Ethan's. His. He found his anger being slowly redirected from Curón to himself.

Benji came over then with a water bottle that he offered to Brandt. He took it gratefully with a mumbled "Thanks." Benji turned away, but then turned back again, studying his teammate.

"You ok?" he asked hesitantly.

"Wha-oh yeah, fine." Benji raised an eyebrow. "I don't sleep well on a thin-ass air mattress in the jungle." Brandt said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Benji put his hands up defensively. "Well, that accounts for the grumpiness," he said turning away.

Shortly after, they were ready to move. "The village is still a little longer than a day's walk," Ethan told them. "We'll camp out for another night, the make contact with our guy there, and use the Sat-phone to call a pickup."

Benji moaned. "I thought you said this would take two days," he whined.

Ethan looked at him. "I did. We walked half a day yesterday, will walk the whole way today, and then walk part of the day tomorrow. We should be there by mid-morning." Brandt smiled a little at Benji's perturbed face. It seemed someone hated camping as much as he did.

As they walked, Benji's complaining became more mean-spirited and frequent. Brandt was somewhat surprised, considering he hadn't said much the day before. But now he complained about the heat, the bugs, the sweat, how he hadn't had a shower, that it was unfair he had to carry the tech equipment cause he was the tech guy, how his left boot was starting to fill up with mud, how he'd get parasites from sleeping in the dirt until finally Jane turned around and snapped,

"Suck it up! This is your goddamn job. And if you don't shut up, I will punch you so hard in the face, your nose won't stop bleeding for a week AND THEN I will request a transfer!"

Benji swallowed audibly, before he mumbled an apology and something about how the heat was getting to him. Brandt figured the threat of the transfer scared him more than the actual punching. Jane was one of the _nicer_ female field agents. Brandt doubted he could stomach a substitute at this point. They walked in silence for another half hour before Ethan signaled a quick break.

"I have to piss," said Curón.

Ethan made eye contact with Brandt and nodded. Brandt gave a small sigh, before motioning with his gun to the trees. Curón led the way until they were out of eyeshot of the group. Curón then held his hands out expectantly behind him. The other few times he'd had to go, they had cut his binds so they wouldn't have to help him. They kept their guns trained on him, all three men having a turn, and he had never tried anything. Brandt warily unsheathed his knife and cut the zip ties holding Curón. He reached into his tact. vest to pull out new ones as Curón started to piss.

Brant was thankful he hadn't said anything to him since last night. It was so late maybe Curón had forgotten about it. He still was angry at himself for how easily Curón had gotten into his head.

He heard the stream of liquid stop, and then Curón leaned down moaning. _Shit_, he probably had gotten some kinda of infection. Brandt leaned closer. "Hey,"

Curón stood up so quickly Brandt didn't have time to register it before something heavy and sharp crashed into Brandt's temple and he crumpled to the ground with a pained grunt. He moaned, dazed, as he felt hands fumble for the gun strapped to his chest before unclipping it.

_Shit,_ _Curón._ Still dazed, the tops of the trees and Curón's head swimming around him, he tried to grab Curón's writs to stop him from taking the gun. Curón reached with his free hand under the cuff of his pants, pulling out an old, dirty looking knife.

Brandt had just enough time to think _How the fuck did he hide _that? Before he found the knife and plunged it into his shoulder right where his upper arm met his chest. He couldn't help himself.

He screamed.

He tried to reach his right hand over his chest to pull it out, but coupled with the pain the dizziness prevented him from getting a grasp on where it actually was. His fingers just slipped away on the blood already starting to pour from the wound.

He vaguely heard the rustling of branches and crunching of leaves as Curón moved back towards the group. _Why would he…_ he though dimly before hearing gunshots. His mind snapped to instant alertness as he remembered his team.

_Fuck._ "Fuck!" he shouted before rolling over onto his stomach. He screamed through clenched teeth as the movement jostled the knife hilt in his shoulder. He put his right arm underneath him and unsteadily pushed himself to his knees. His teammates! _Oh god…_he refused to let himself think of the worst possible outcome that once again, _his _actions had caused.

He stumbled back through the brush, crashing into tree trunks for support and breathing heavily through the pain. He could feel the knife blade grinding against bone. He could hear it too. That and the dizziness kicked in his gag reflex, but forced it down. He had to get to his team.

He stumbled back to the clearing breathing heavily and leaning his good arm on his knee. He saw Jane leaning over Benji. Curón and Ethan were nowhere in sight. He stumbled over to his teammates, noticing Jane was holding a wadded up shirt over Benji's calf. He was squinting his eyes and breathing heavily through his teeth.

"Christ!" he bit out. "Benji, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" Jane looked at him then, and Benji opened his eyes as well.

"Why are you-shit, Brandt, what happened to you? _Oh my god, _there's a knife sticking out of you!"

"It…looks worse than it is," he assured them. "What happened? Where's Ethan?"

"Benji, hold that there," she instructed the tech, who leaned forward and held the cloth to his own bloody leg. She moved over to Brandt and helped him sit down. "Curón came back…with the gun…we thought he'd killed you. He shot Benji and ran for it. Ethan's in pursuit."

"What? I have to help him, it's…my fault he escaped!" Brandt tried to stand up again, but in doing so accidentally put weight on his injured arm and would have fallen on his face if Jane hadn't caught him.

"Shit, Brandt, lie down already!" she ordered.

"What's wrong with him?" Benji gritted out.

"Nothing!" Brandt growled back.

"Aside from the knife in your shoulder and what may be a concussion, judging by the gash on your head?" Jane fired off. "Brandt, just…shut up! You'd be more harm to Ethan than help right now. Curón knows these woods, but Ethan's an excellent tracker, he'll find him."

"And what if he gets shot?" Brandt spat back. "Jane, it…has to be you then, you have to…help him!" Jane instead tore off his tact. vest, followed by a quick knife cut of her own to tear the sleeve and part of the front of his t-shirt away. He groaned from the movement, and felt nauseous again as the knife moved inside of him.

"He's got it," Jane said. "Besides, you two…" she paused, inhaling deeply through her mouth and Brandt could have sword her eyes may have been a little wetter than usual. "…you two need my help right now." She grabbed another piece of clothing from a small pile nearby, and wrapped it around the knife not taking it out of Brandt's shoulder. "Don't. Move." She growled. She turned back to Benji. Gently, she lifted up the shirt from his calf.

"Owowowowowowow! Be delicate!" he whined.

She ignored him. "It's a clean through and through, and it doesn't look like it hit anything vital," she said, taking out another unlucky shirt. "I'm going to wrap it tighter now, and it's going to hurt, ok? I'll stitch it when I'm done with Brandt."

Benji nodded quickly. "Yeah, that's fine, it's just-OWOWOWOW!" Brandt watched with a gut-wrenching twist of guilt as Benji's hands clawed into the dirt for some sort of purchase, betraying his words about the amount of pain he was in. Brandt turned his head away, but he could still hear the sharp intakes of breath from his teammate.

Jane then moved over to him, first cleaning his head wound. He hissed in pain, trying to not let it show it felt like she was trying to pull his skin off his skull. She then taped a large gauze pad over the wound. "Brandt, do you have any dizziness? Double vision? Did you black out?" she asked.

"I uh…didn't black out..." he breathed. She gave him that accusing look again. _Don't lie to me._

_I've done enough damage already,_ he told himself.

"Some, uh, some nausea…" he admitted. "But it could be from the…knife scraping my humorous…"

Benji pulled himself up to his elbows. "The…what? Jane! You didn't…take that out of him?"

"I've been busy with you!" she snapped. Jane gently unwrapped the shirt from around the knife again. The bottom was almost soaked with blood. She couldn't leave it in much longer, help was too far away. She looked at Brandt. "I have to pull it out," she said apologetically. He looked at her, nodding and exhaling softly.

"Do it."

She gripped the hilt, a job made somewhat harder by the amount of blood on it, and started to slowly pull.

Brandt began to moan through clenched teeth at first, but by the time it was over he had choked off more than one scream. "Sorry," she said quickly, placing the shirt back over his wound. She looked at the knife. It wasn't one of theirs. What worried her though was that even with the blood it seemed incredibly dirty. "Brandt, I'm going to have to clean it…with the saline solution." Brandt, panting hard, just nodded. Rooting around in the first aid kit again, she pulled out a large, plastic hypodermic needle and a bottle of saline solution. She unscrewed the cap, the put the needle in and pulled back the compressor, filling it. She moved back over to Brandt, holding the tip of the needle about an inch above the wound. "Ready?"

"No," he ground out.

She gave a small, apologetic smile. "I know. Just…it'll only be a few seconds." She pressed the plunger and a stream of solution shot out, filling the wound with water and making more blood run. Brandt's breathing sped up, and he clutched the ground weakly with his wounded arm and Jane's ankle with his good arm. She didn't say anything about how tight his grip was. She was done quickly, but now she could see the jagged edges a little better. She pressed another article of clothing over it.

"I'm going to stitch up Benji, and then-"

She was interrupted by a rustling in the forest, and she stood up so quickly with her gun in hand, neither Benji nor Brandt saw it leave the holster.

"It's me," Ethan's voice called out.

Jane gave a sigh of relief, holstering her weapon. A moment later, Ethan became visible, dragging an unconscious Curón by the legs. It looked like his head may have hit a few rocks on the way back. Ethan dropped him in the dirt, sparing one angry look at Brandt and Benji before unsheathing a knife and cutting off part of the rope that was tied to their tarp. He then brought it back over to the unconscious Curón, first putting new zip ties on his wrists, before viciously bounding his arms to his body with the rope.

"Ethan, are you alright?" Jane asked.

"Yeah. He popped off a few at me, but I think he generally has terrible aim. He was lucky when he hit Benji."

"Oooh, yeah, lucky." Benji said sarcastically. Jane pulled out the sutures, and then unwrapped Benji's leg.

Ethan moved to Brandt, looking at the bloody knife on the ground and the bandage placement on his teammate, before instantly surmising what happened. Brandt was still breathing heavily, but he made eye contact with his team leader.

"I'm sorry, it was my fault…he got loose…"

Ethan grabbed a second set of sutures from the kit, before moving over to Brandt's shoulder.

"It's taken care of," Ethan assured him.

"Sorry, Benji," Brandt continued.

"It's…it's ok, man, really. It could have happened to anyone of us," Benji sounded a little perplexed at being the one to assure Brandt, being the other injured party himself. "Besides, I was overdue for a gunshot wound…the rest of you all have them."

Ethan chuckled, but stopped immediately when Brandt looked away again, finding no mirth in the situation.


	5. Chapter 5

_Obligatory thanks to TBB, V in particular for giving this the once-over. I seriously couldn't write this much without you guys._

Soon both Jane and Ethan had finished up stitching Brandt and Benji's wounds. As they waited for Curón to wake up, Ethan found a somewhat sturdy branch on the ground and used his combat knife to whittle it into somewhat of a crude crutch for Benji. They wrapped one of the used bloody t-shirts around it as Benji looked on with a disgusted look. It was decided that since Brandt couldn't lift his arm higher than his waist, they'd just forgo a shirt altogether and put his vest back on.

"This really chafes, you know," he grumbled to no one in particular as they proceeded at about half the pace they were making before. They had covered up his shoulder with gauze so the vest didn't rub against it, but he could feel the heat radiating off of it like a furnace. Still, he wasn't sure that everything was still in the right place. Every footstep on his left side jarred his shoulder, but more painful still were the jolts of pain that traveled like electricity from his shoulder and down his nerves every few seconds. He and Benji had both received light pain killers, but unfortunately the drugs did almost nothing since they still had to be aware enough to trek through the jungle.

Curón, for his part, had said nothing since he regained consciousness with Ethan's gun directly over his crotch. "I can't kill you," he had hissed. "…but I don't have any orders about how intact you have to be when my people get you. Not another word, and from now on, you're just going to piss your pants." Curón had nodded once, showing Ethan he got the message.

When Ethan had gotten done with the stitches, he had said quietly to Brandt, "This isn't your fault."

"Yeah, I know." He hadn't sounded very convincing, even to himself.

Ethan held his gaze for a moment. "Brandt, I need you to focus. We still have a ways to go, and it's going to take us longer."

"Sorry," Brandt had mumbled quietly.

Ethan gave an exasperated sigh as he had stood up. "Just…keep your head in the game."

Brandt had known Ethan was getting tired of his bullshit excuses. What kind of agent was he, letting a prisoner get the jump on him?

Jane had taken point with Ethan and Curón in the back. Benji and Brandt were staggering along in the middle. With each hobbled step, Benji was wincing, and would try to cover up his pained hisses. But for the most part, he had stopped bleeding. Guilt and shame once again threatened to overwhelm Brandt at seeing his friend's condition. Benji at some point must have noticed his friend's expression, because he grunted under his breath so that only Brandt could hear him, "I'm not…mad at you…or anything."

Brandt gave Benji a puzzled look. "Excuse me?"

"This…situation. It could have happened to anyone."

Brandt looked away and growled under his breath. "Quit with the pity party, Benji. It's my fault, I'm taking responsibility."He angrily wiped more sweat off his face with his good arm. God, he hated that he was so fucking transparent sometimes.

"Well, just…I mean…" Benji was somewhat at a loss for words. "Remember a few months back," he grunted as he shifted the crutch underneath him. "…when I ignored that guy on the…video feed cause he was…selling hot dogs?" Brandt remembered. Ethan had run out of the building they were infiltrating straight into said hotdog vendor's knife.

"Benji-" Brandt began.

"It wasn't okay," Benji cut him off. "I mean, it's sort of okay now…cause Ethan's okay…but I still know it's cause I fucked up…not anyone else. Just me." Brandt remembered. Benji hadn't been himself for about two weeks while Ethan recovered. "My point is, occasionally, as trained as we are, we make stupid mistakes. You can't let that…define you."

Brandt, who had been beginning to become more subdued as Benji spoke, suddenly became angry again. "Dammit, I'm not letting it '_define'_ me! Just mind your own business already, I'm sick of everyone breathing down my neck about it."

Benji slowed down his hobbling, regarding his friend with a scrunched up brow. "What's going on with you?" he said in a tone that was half worry, half-annoyance. "You know we can't help you if we don't know what's going on. Functioning as a team and all that." Benji meant for the last part to be a joke but Brandt whirled on him.

"Maybe you should just kick me off the team then. Would that suit you better?" he snarled.

Benji opened his mouth to reply, closing it again wordlessly. Ethan and Jane had stopped, the rising voices and angry tones having gotten their attention. Benji looked to Jane for help.

"Wi-Gryphon," she corrected herself in front of Curón. "What's going on?"

Everyone was staring at him now, their eyes _accusing_ him. He was responsible for slowing down the team, for inviting this moment of weakness, for creating the cracks in their infrastructure. He was on the verge of replying to Jane, but the sun was suddenly just _so fucking bright_, the mosquitoes were turning his arm into a painful, itchy landing pad, and his voice was so dry he couldn't find it to speak again. He stood there, breathing heavily, all eyes on him, just blaming him for _everything._

"I'm done!" he spat.

"What?" Jane asked incredulously.

He took a step forward but before he could explain himself, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

Jane ran to Brandt's side, falling to the ground as she did so, with a bit out "Shit!"

"You! Down." Ethan said to Curón. The drug lord started moving slowly to his knees, so Ethan sped him along by kicking his legs out from underneath him before moving to help Jane with Brandt.

"He was…he was just talking! He was fine a minute ago! What…what…" Benji's worried tone cut through Ethan's patience.

"Shut up," he told the tech flatly as he felt for a pulse. It was strong, but erratic, and Brandt himself was bathed in sweat. Brandt was moaning lowly, but he wasn't conscious. Ethan unzipped the vest.

"What's…what's wrong with him?" Benji tried more quietly, leaning on his crutch and staring down at their teammate from over Jane's shoulder. Ethan tore back the bandage covering Brandt's shoulder. Jane let out a hiss.

The stab wound was a bright, unhealthy pink as more pinkish liquid leaked from it. The actual stitches had been covered to a point of invisibility by blood, pus, and swelling skin that was a shiny, angry red. Ethan hung his head in frustration. In trying to do the right thing and close the heavily bleeding stab wound, he had only helped seal in infection. "Jane, find the medkit," he said evenly. She took off her pack, digging through it. Luckily because of their earlier mishap, it was still near the top. She took it out and handed it wordlessly to Ethan. Ethan found the small scissors inside. "Benji, watch Curón. Jane, set up the tarp. He's not moving for a while."

Jane didn't comment on the fact Ethan had dropped their code names. She nodded, glancing hesitantly at the sky. It would be dusk soon. And time seemed to have just become ten times more crucial than before.

Benji hobbled over to where Curón was still lying face down on the ground. "Oops," he said as he knocked him in the head with his crutch. His satisfaction was short lived however as a low wail escaped from Brandt. He looked back over worriedly at his friend. Every few minutes, a violent tremor would rip down Brandt's body as Ethan worked to cut away the stitches and pull them free one by one.

Ethan was done with the stitches in about half an hour, but now jagged, inflamed edges of skin were displayed, and Brandt's body continued to be racked by tremors every few minutes. Ethan dug around in the med kit, reading labels on various individually packeted pills. Jane, who had finished with the tarp, moved to take Benji's position. "Sit down," she said quietly to him. He nodded, hobbling back over to Ethan and Brandt, before maneuvering himself awkwardly into the dirt on Brandt's other side.

Ethan said nothing about the intrusion of personal space. He handed the packet of pills he had to Benji. "Open this." Benji took the packet, while Ethan slapped the analyst's face lightly.

"Brandt! Brandt. Wake up." Brandt groaned again, before opening half-lidded eyes.

"Ethan? Stop hitting me," he grumbled before rolling his head to the side.

Ethan slapped him again. "I need you to take something."

"Carry your own shit," Brandt mumbled feverishly. Ethan smiled a little at that.

"It's antibiotics. I'm going to help you. Can you sit up?"

Brandt tried to comply, lifting his head off the ground. Ethan moved to support the back of his shoulders as another tremor racked his body and he clenched his teeth shut in pain. "Open your mouth," Ethan ordered. He did so, and Ethan nodded to Benji who dropped the pills into it. "Now water, ok? I'm going to help you," Ethan repeated again, putting a water bottle in Brandt's hand and then helping him lift it to his mouth. Brandt managed a few swallows before he started coughing and Ethan lowered him back to the ground.

"No, no, I need…more." Ethan helped him sit up again as he took a few more swallows before another tremor wracked his body and he dropped the water bottle and spat out the water in his mouth over his chest. Benji winced in sympathy as Ethan lowered him to the ground. Brandt seemed to fall back into a state of half-consciousness again, letting out small whimpers each time a tremor coursed through him. Benji took the bloody t-shirt off his crutch, before pouring water over it and putting it on the sick man's forehead.

"Sorry, mate," he whispered before looking to Ethan.

Ethan pulled Jane aside. "I have to go get help on foot," he told her. "They're not going to make it." Jane nodded. "I should be able to reach the village a little before dawn. There, I'll contact IMF and get a pick-up." He moved back over to the pack, before rummaging around inside of it again. He pulled out two small walkie-talkies, handing one to Jane. "These have better range than the comms. Turn it on at 0800 tomorrow. Channel two. Unfortunately, I'll need this," he said picking up the GPS tracker from where he dropped her. He looked at it, memorizing the coordinates. "I'll find you," he assured her. She nodded. She didn't doubt him for a second.

"Ethan," Benji's worried voice called him over. He moved back over to the injured pair, his ears picking up a sound that hadn't been there a few minutes before. It was Brandt, mumbling quietly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…it's…nyaaaag…" he groaned as he rode another wave of pain. "…it's my fault. My fault. Don't trust me…" Benji looked at Ethan, eye's pleading for an explanation as a shadow crossed Ethan's face. He bolted over to Curón before kicking the drug lord over so that he was face up, as he ripped the only bit of duct tape they had off his mouth.

"What did you _say_ to him?" he demanded.

Curón smiled wickedly. "Nothing he wasn't already thinking." Ethan moved away before seemingly changing his mind and whipping back around to stomp on Curón once, savagely, in the gut. The drug lord curled in on himself, moaning. Ethan began moving away, turning again to Jane.

"Remember, 0800. Channel two." He turned back to Curón when he began to chuckle lightly.

"It…it was easy!" the drug lord taunted. "It was so obvious from the beginning that he was the weakest one of you all. All I had to do was wait."

Ethan looked from him back to Jane. "Gag him." He spotted another bloody t-shirt on the ground. "With that." She nodded again.

"I'll find you," he assured her, as he grabbed an extra bottle of water and the GPS.

Jane breathed deeply as she watched her team leader disappear into the trees, pained confessions and mocking laughter echoing around her.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N_: _So, so sorry this is so late in coming. Once again, I will not only thank The Beta Branch for keeping me on track, but blame them by getting me too involved with Avengers crapola. I sorta lost my Mission Impossible muse for a while there, also I don't like writing endings so I was procrastinating big time on this. But here you go. Thanks again everyone for reading, reviewing, and fav'ing. Also if you're interested in a link to TBB, just to have stuff beta'd, hang out, see our works in progress, harass me to update, whatever, you don't have to take a test or anything, anyone can join. You can PM me for details._

Jane had dragged Curón over to a tree where she had tied him tightly up. His eyes seemed to smile at her, but she ignored them with dogged determination. Her team didn't have time for that. The next few hours were a blur. She tried getting water down Brandt's throat every little while, but he would only manage a few trickles before he choked on it and started coughing. Benji didn't look great either, as he studied his teammates, trying not to let his growing exhaustion and nausea show.

The sun was long down when Brandt opened his eyes with a clarity that Jane hadn't seen since that morning.

"Jane," he whispered.

She smiled widely at him. "Will," she whispered back relieved. "How are you feeling?"

He considered. "Been better," he admitted.

She helped him sit up and take some more water, before giving him more aspirin followed by another round of water. He kept more of it down this time, before he looked from Benji's sleeping form to hers. "Ethan?" he asked.

"He's getting help," she assured him.

Brandt took a deep sigh, looking away as his body gave another slight tremble. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"William," she said quietly, but sternly. He turned to look at her, surprised by the full use of his first name.

"Don't you _dare_ say that. We all made mistakes today. Also, quite frankly, it's insulting. We can own up to our mistakes as a team. That's what a team does. I'm not letting you take the blame for this." Her eyes softened as she leaned down to wipe away more blood and pus from his shoulder. "Besides, we don't let the guy who's down for the count take the blame."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a look. "Don't say 'maybe you should'." She smiled at his frown. "I can read now, Agent Brandt." She said with mock authority. "Don't let every mistake consume you. It's unprofessional. And honestly," she gave a look towards Benji to make sure he was still sleeping. "It's very unbecoming." She winked at him. He gave her a small smile in return.

"Heard that," Benji mumbled.

Jane's face changed to one of pure rage in an instant and she grit her teeth. "Shit,"

Brandt gave a small laugh.

"And who says women don't have a place in the IMF," Benji continued through closed eyes though he was smiling now.

"Don't you hate how…" another tremor ran through his body, "…he just says the wrong things at the wrong times?" Brandt whispered.

"Are you sure you're just not confusing that hate with hatred for him?"

"Hey now, injured man over here," Benji mumbled.

Brandt caught Jane's eye, ignoring the tech. "Thanks," he whispered.

She smiled and nodded.

*M:I*M:I*M:I*

Unfortunately, that seemed to be the most awake Brandt was over the course of the night. Jane got no sleep, constantly cleaning his wound, soothing him when he became agitated and twitchy, and just generally worrying. Benji was keeping himself awake as well. Jane gave up trying to get him to go to sleep after he faked it for the sixth time.

At one point, Brandt gave a loud cry of pain, curling in on himself and biting off screams. Whether they were screams of pain or memories, Jane wasn't sure, but she quietly got up and moved over to Curón who had been watching. He grinned savagely at her before she punched him once, twice, three times in the face, rocking his head back into the tree he was tied to, splitting his lip, and blackening his eye.

Benji watched silently as she came back over to them, sliding easily onto the ground next to Brandt and rubbing her bleeding knuckles calmly.

Dawn came, and Jane wasn't sure Brandt could wait for three more hours. Red streaks had spread out from the wound, racing up his neck and down his arm and side. He had become entirely unresponsive, and Jane just sat with him, holding his hand and whispering words every now and again. Benji would occasionally shoot glances of hatred towards Curón who for his part seemed pretty out of it too. They hadn't given him water in a really long time, and Benji was slightly worried they may get written up or fined for some indecent treatment of prisoner rule, but at this point he didn't really care.

At 7:30, Jane turned on the radio. She was met with static, predictably. She couldn't wait anymore. Even Benji was silent.

When 8:00 rolled around, they both stared at the walkie talkie, as if waiting for it to sprout wings.

At 8:25, Jane became too anxious and got up to pace.

At 8:50, Benji sunk his head into his hands and didn't move it.

At 9:12, Jane bit back a choked sob of relief when Ethan's voice came over the radio.

*M:I*M:I*M:I*

The next few hours were a blur for Benji. The chopper reached them shortly after Ethan made contact, airlifting the three of them and Curón out. Benji and Brandt were hooked up to IVs immediately, both for antibiotics and painkillers. Benji had insisted he didn't need it, but after Ethan's insistence, relented. He had tried to keep an eye on what was happening with Brandt, the medics and his teammates crowded around him, but soon found himself drifting off against his will.

When he awoke again, he was in a hospital bed. He sat up stiffly, noting the twitch of pain in his calf. He pulled back the bed sheet, and saw the bandage there covering what felt like stitches. He was about to lie back down, not really surprised at this turn of events, before he sat up straight again. _Brandt!_ Brandt wasn't there.

"Jane? Ethan?" He called out hesitantly. There wasn't an answer, and he started pulling back the sheets more to get out of bed.

"Benji, what are you doing?" He looked up, surprised, as Jane entered the room from the hallway.

"Where's Will?" he said.

Jane smiled. "He's getting stitched up. He's going to be fine, Benji."

Benji sank down back into the pillows with a deep, relieved sigh, and his mouth shut tight. Jane noticed the wetness in the corners of his eyes and gave him a pat on the wrist.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'd be better if Brandt was here," Benj said honestly.

"Ethan's going to get him moved in here when they're done," Jane reassured him.

True to her word, Brandt was wheeled in about half an hour later with Ethan accompanying him. He seemed a little groggy from the pain meds, but he smiled when he saw Benji and Jane he grinned widely before pointing to the new gauze pad covering his shoulder smartly.

Benji in turn pointed to the one covering his calf and Brandt gave him a silent thumbs up.

When the nurses who had been pushing Brandt's bed and IV determined he didn't need anything else, they left and Ethan shut the door behind them.

"Curón's gone," he stated simply. "He's on his way to Gitmo for some…medical treatment. It would seem he really took a beating trying to traipse through the jungle hog tied." Everyone looked at Jane, who shrugged noncommittally. Brandt, even in his drugged state, dropped his eye contact with Ethan.

Ethan pretended not to notice, and continued. "But, he's someone else's problem now, and I would declare this mission a success. We'll be staying here over night, but then we're going home." Everyone smiled but Brandt's looked only half-hearted.

Ethan was not about to let it go.

Later that night, when Benji was asleep and Jane at a hotel, Ethan came back to the hospital. He wasn't surprised to see Brandt awake. They'd taken him off the heavy painkiller drip, so he was probably beginning to feel a little sick and his shoulder probably ached. Brandt didn't acknowledge the older agent's entry. Ethan pulled up a chair next to his bed and waited.

"I understand if you want me off the team," Brandt finally mumbled. Ethan inwardly sighed. He knew this had been coming. "I'm a liability. If Curón could read me that easily…"

"We were all having an off day. And usually we don't spend that long with assets. It could have happened to anyone. It _has_ happened to me. More than once."

Brandt shifted, locking eyes with Ethan then, not quite believing him.

Ethan nodded slowly. "There are always going to be people out there as smart as, or smarter than us. That's why they're good at being criminals. It's how we cope as a team that makes us unique. You can't carry around this bone-crushing guilt after every mission that has even something little go wrong. It'll destroy you. And us. You just have to learn from it."

"But I got Benji-"

"Benji hasn't even complained about his gunshot because he's been so worried about you. And while that in itself is truly miraculous, I'd more like to impress upon you that he can handle this job. And so can you."

Ethan moved towards the door. As he turned the knob, he heard a "Thanks, Ethan," from the other side of the room.

He smiled. "I'll see you at 7 AM tomorrow. We're getting the fuck out of this miserable tropical hell hole."


End file.
